


Claws and Tails and Teeth, Oh My!

by limey_limey



Series: It's Halloween, Idiot! [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Beastmen - Freeform, Buckets of Blood, Character Death, F/F, Witches, Zombies, all that creepy stuff, but cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limey_limey/pseuds/limey_limey
Summary: You wake up covered in fur, your foster bitch is a foster witch and your girlfriend is nowhere to be seen - it was not Catra's day.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: It's Halloween, Idiot! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992628
Kudos: 29





	Claws and Tails and Teeth, Oh My!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a twofer - both sections happen simultaneously so once you've read this run on over to Hair Poof and Braiiins! to find out what's happened to Adora.

Catra woke up to hazy grey light filtering through the gaps in the curtains, she blinked sleepy heterochromatic eyes and yawned expansively. The noise that left her throat caused her to pause, rather than the squeaking yawn she was used to a guttural growl followed. She thought that she much have a cold coming but she felt incredibly good. Her body seemed to hum with vitality like she’d had the best night sleep of her young life. Rolling onto her side, she snuggled further into the blankets, quickly realising that the girl who she shared the small mattress with was gone. The bed beside her already cold, meaning that, as usual, the blond had been up and out at the crack of dawn.

Taking another big breath to yawn, dozens of smells filled her nose making it twitch and a sneeze burst out in place of the yawn. She wondered at the strangest of the smells, a lot of them so recognisable yet somehow more. She moved her head up to Adora’s pillow and took a big breath, overwhelmed by the smell of the other girl, it was like she was inside her, crawling through her veins. 

Then her ear twitched involuntarily and she flew out of the bed and onto the floor, the crawling and unnatural sensation against her skin making her reach up and ruffle through her hair, sure an insect was crawling through her hair. That’s when she saw it, as her arm passed in front of her face towards her hair, the thick chestnut fur that covered the limb. The hand at the end of the arm was covered in toe beans and tipped by wickedly sharp black claws, gone was her tanned human skin and stubby nails. It wasn’t just sharp and clawed, every part of her she could see from the floor seemed bigger. Breathing raggedly, gripped by a terror that filled her to the pit of her stomach, she let her hand finish the journey to her head and felt large, velvety ears move under her touch.

Something flickered in the periphery of her vision and again she was bolting, this time scrambling in a body too big and unknown, into the corner to get away from the unknown assailant. Except it followed. She spun to see it and caught sight of the tail that sprouted from her own rear. Finally, taking a few gulping breaths, she straightened up and made her way to the bathroom, looking into the mirror over the sink with eyes as wide as saucers.

Staring back at her was a big cat, or a ware-cat? She had seen enough horror movies, curled up on the small bed with Adora, to have some idea of what she was. Why she wasn’t a ware-wolf, who knew (why she was anything she wasn’t sure) unless fate had a sick sense of humour and gave her the appearance that best suited her name.

Her hair, always wild, now looked more like a lion’s mane, untamed and voluminous, wide expressive ears sprouting from the nest of it. Her face was much the same, eyes bigger, nose flatter and sharp teeth poking against her lip but still hers enough to recognise. Fur disappeared into the collar of her sleep shirt and as she pulled it over her head, she saw that it covered all of her. Darker stripes crossed her ribs and arms.

Walking out of the bathroom to cross the hall back to her bedroom, she stopped mid step and her newly acute hearing, as sharp as her nose now seemed to be, piqued. The house was filled with a dull hum, the floor and walls almost throbbing with it. Somewhere in the back of her mind it reminded her of the buzzing of a light before it died. It pricked inside her head and she felt the uncanny feeling of the newly sprouted fur over her body standing on end.

Ducking into the bedroom, she pulled on one of her bigger shirts and a pair of leggings that felt too tight against her legs. She would have thrown on a jacket, but her broader shoulders would destroy them. Satisfied that her clothes wouldn’t burst at the seams, she made her way downstairs on feet more silent than they had ever been. Her form may be new, but it seemed like cruel fate at least gave her sub-conscious an idea of how to use it. 

Down on the ground floor the thrum was much louder, almost a living thing that filled her up to her bones. It was easy to tell where it was coming from. The study was always out of bounds unless she was getting a whipping (which happened more than it should) and she knew that Shadow Weaver practiced some unholy things in there. The old musty books that lined the shelves bore titles that screamed of the occult. And Catra had always thought the woman looked like a witch with the hair and the robes.  
She pushed open the door, wincing at the shrill sound of the hinges creaking as it swung inwards to reveal a sickly green light filling the space. Squinting her sensitive eyes to slits, she saw that the sickly light was streaming out of a gaping wound in the floor. It was more than a hole, the edges were jagged like a rip in skin, light oozing out like blood. Beside the pit, arms upraised and hair billowing around her head as though she were under water, was her guardian. Shadow Weaver was chanting in an arcane tongue, swaying slightly with the force of the light, seemingly oblivious to the intruder.

Catra moved forward into the room, coming up behind the kneeling woman. Above the hum, she could hear the throbbing of blood under the older woman’s skin, the pounding of her heart as she enacted the ritual. The ware-cat’s mouth filled with saliva, the claws sliding disconcertingly out of her fingertips and her fangs bared. Every fibre of her being was telling her to pounce; to rip; to tear flesh and consume the warm chunks. Bile flooded the back of her mouth at the thought of eating her foster mother, she wasn’t a monster! She wanted to so badly though.

She watched as her clawed hand came up towards the older woman’s back, and in a panic, fighting her baser instincts, she pushed her forward roughly rather than pulling her closer. The woman yelped in terror, loosing her balance and tumbling forward towards the gash in the floor. The light intensified as she fell forward, like it was reaching out to greedily consume her. A blinding flash filled the room, Catra yelping and shielding her eyes. When it dissipated she blinked at the room until it came into focus; Shadow Weaver, and the void, were gone.

Running out of the room, only stopping long enough to grab one of Shadow Weavers long trench coats and pull on a wooly hat to cover her ears, she was out of the door and bolting down the street in search of Adora. She passed the car, moving so fast that she had no need to take it. Feeling her body pushing to go even faster, she found herself on all fours, movie so fast that the houses around her were a blur until she reached the strip mall and slowed.

Standing in the shadows of an alleyway, concealed from prying eyes, she took a deep breath to try to find her girlfriends scent only to be left gagging at the stench she encountered. The world smelt like rot, she looked behind her expecting to find a dumpster, only to see nothing of the kind. Looking back out at street she caught sight of a dozen or more shambling figures, skin peeling and groaning. Zombies, her mind supplied. She should be scared. Should be running away from this potential danger. She stayed put, her cat self standing its ground and a low growl building in her throat. 

Her ears swivelled forward, straining to make sense of the noises combining from the shuffling group. Initially it seemed like groans, nonsensical sounds but as she listened more closely she could make out words. They were muffled and garbled, the absence of lips, tongues and in one case a jaw, hindering them. As she concentrated she realised that they were, to fit the cliche, calling out for brains. She almost laughed, almost. Hearing more noises coming from close by she turned her head and saw another, smaller, group of undead lurching out of the bakery with faces and hands stained with blood.

Screaming pierced the air, louder than the moans for brains and food. Some heroic part of her that she didn’t know existed, made her legs start to move, hunting down what poor soul was fighting off the Zombie attack. Rounding a corner and diving through the smashed window of the bookstore, she popped up behind a lone zombie and tore its head clean off with her bare hands. Releasing an undignified yelp, she threw the slimy, decomposing thing away from her and looked for the survivor. 

Sprawled on the floor in front of her was a large man, Mr Trent if memory served. He had a wound bleeding sluggishly on his neck and his skull was smashed on the side, revealing the throbbing grey brain matter inside. He was breathing shallowly, but clearly a goner. Even though she could tell he wouldn’t make it, Catra found herself getting closer to the warm body. Then she was on her knees beside it, face hovering over the weak jugular, inhaling the smell of his blood as though it were the sweetest perfume.

When her teeth sunk into his flesh it was transcendent. Her body sang and her muscles flexed in ecstasy. Warm flesh and salty blood filled her, made her feel stronger than she ever had before. A part of her, the girl who had gone to bed last night, was horrified by her actions, the bigger part crowed in delight. The delighted half won. She raised her head and let loose a roar that echoed around the store. Soon she had her fill and rose from the corpse, seeing that others were waiting outside the window, not zombies this time but a handful of others like her. A lizard man and someone that looked like a dog (not a wolf she noted) hovered at the head of the group. They looked hungry and she was done; nodding at them as she passed she was back on the hunt for the blond. 

Her hopes were not high, she hadn’t seen a single living human since she arrived at the mall. That was when she caught her scent on the wind, drawing her towards the mini mart. Reluctantly she walked through the doors and skidded in the pool of blood that greeted her there, coming to rest on her knees beside the body of the very girl she was looking for. 

Adora’s body was cold, the blood surrounding her sticky and congealed. Still clenched in her fist was a bag full of croissants, the thing that had led her out of the house that morning. It looked like she had been one of the first to fall victim to whatever Shadow Weaver had unleashed on the town. Catra ran her hand through her bloody hair, noticing that her skull was still in tact, the blood had poured out of a large bite wound in her ribcage. She’s bled out, but whatever had bitten her had not taken her brain. Allowing a few tears to fall into the bloody fur on her face, she put her arms underneath the other girl and hefted her into her arms. Even though she was dead weight, she felt light as a feather to the feline. 

Catra left the store, precious cargo held close to her chest and ran with all her inhuman speed back to their home, heedless of anything that stood in her way. She entered the house and took Adora up to the bathroom, peeling her bloody clothes from her body and putting her in the tub. She ran the taps until the bath was full wound the lifeless body and scrubbed the blood out of her hair and from her skin. Once clean, she took the body into their bedroom and dressed her in all her favourite clothes. Then she laid down beside her and allowed herself to cry.

Afternoon had arrived before she pulled herself together and Adora was still very dead. All those horror movies that said that zombies would rise in hours were god damn liars, or that’s what Catra hoped. If it was true, the thing that had bitten Adora was not a zombie and she would stay dead. Catra refused to believe that was true, but she couldn’t make the other girl suffer the indignity of rotting away in their bed if it were true.

The ware-cat took her love to the local funeral home. On the way she saw several cars abandoned, engines still running and glass smashed, but no people or creatures. The funeral home too was eerily quiet and seemingly empty as she made her way through it. She placed Adora’s body onto a couch in the parlour and dashed out a note, clumsy with her new hands, and tucked it into her shirt.

Then she was home again, alone in a place that had never been kind to her.

________________

When Catra woke the next morning, she reached out to a girl that would never be there again. Her eyes shot open, quickly taking an inventory of her body and finding that the previous day had not been a nightmare. Not a sleeping one anyway. She was still fured and clawed, which meant Adora and Shadow Weaver were still dead. 

She slunk downstairs, dressed as she had been the day before, stomach still pleasantly full from the horrifying treat she had gorged on yesterday. Today the house was hers, and she moved around it like she owned the place. Walking to the windows, she peered out and saw that each often buildings that lined their street had crumbled or patricianly collapsed after the previous nights events, she hadn’t let herself pay attention to them in the night but in the harsh light of day it was clear that a shockwave had destroyed them.

Plonking down onto the sofa she flicked on the TV, a news broadcast blaring to life and showing the blood stained carnage at the mall. A reporter confirmed that the dead had risen and that beast-men had roamed abroad and then, spontaneously the zombies had dropped to the ground and turned to pools of goo. The beast-men disappeared into the night. There was no sign of any more dead rising. An isolated incident of the supernatural they pronounced. Funerals for the dead would be held after the burials the well coifed man on screen continued, as memorials. The authorities had decided that it was better to get the bodies in the ground just in case. That caught Catra’s attention and she knew she would have to make her way to the funeral home to keep watch on Adora’s burial.

________________

One day turned into two and then three. Adora was buried the first day after in a shady spot under a large tree. Her coffin was polished oak, the mayoress had told then to use whatever they had to keep the dead in the ground. Catra sat beside her grave each night once the moon had risen and waited, hidden by shadows. Day after day nothing happened but she kept watch anyway. Adora had promised a long time ago that they would always look out for each other and Catra wouldn’t be the one to break that promise.

She slept the days away, waking at dusk and feeding on those who were foolish enough to get in her way. On the first day, the idea of murdering the person she would eat with her own hands appalled her. She tried to feast on the food in the house but it all tasted like rot and decay. Only newly dead flesh would do. Then she found a squirrel and her stomach rebelled and threw it back out onto the lawn.

So she had hidden in an alley in a residential area and waited. People were still afraid, though already they were rationalising what had happened in the hopes of getting back to a normal way of life. In a month or so this would be just a dream that most wouldn’t believe, putting it down to drugs or delirium. That was when she had spotted him, an older man putting out his trash. Her body had reacted before she could thinks and she had grabbed him by the neck and pulled him back into the shadows. It took moments and then she was easting as fast as she could until her stomach swelled and she could fit no more.

The second night was easier and by the third she realised that she only saw the humans around her as food now. She had also noticed that the few other beast-men had taken to following in her wake and eating her left overs. They never spoke to her or tried to take what was hers so she saw no reason to fight them. Most importantly they never followed her home.

It was on the third day after ‘The Event’, as the news had started to call it, that she saw her first zombie. She was making her usual trek to Adora’s fresh grave when it slunk past her on the street. The smell of dirt, formaldehyde and death clung to the thing but it moved like a human, if a little slower. It was different to the ones she had seen on the night, perhaps because it was fresher or maybe because it had been born here and not called forth by a spell. She kept her distance from it, not wanting a fight, and the zombie paid her no heed as it walked back to town. 

“Hey!” She didn’t know what prompted her to call out but the zombies head swivelled towards her. It unexpectedly stopped and opened its mouth.

“What’s going on?” The words were slow, almost like the voice was playing at half speed, but completely understandable to the cat ears that focused towards it. Catra’s jaw dropped in shock and then she smiled in delight.

“You just got reborn!” The milky eyes looked at her as though she were mad, before the head shook slowly and the zombie continued on its way back to civilisation.

Catra’s heart had swelled with hope and she had run all the way to Adora’s grave, happy to wait forever if need be. Forever turned out to be one more night.


End file.
